The Cloning Factory
by Raven Wings
Summary: *COMPLETE* After recieving mysterious invitations, Wolverine, Gambit, Toad and Nightcrawler are about to find out how frightening fangirls can be. Self-insertion, randomness, sarcastic Toad and E-Bay.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Well, it depends. If I'm on my meds, I'm sane enough to realise they're not mine. When I'm off my medication though....MWAHAHAHA! IT ALL BELONGS TO ME! Unfortunately, I'm on my medication at the moment, and know that the X-Men aren't mine.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Midget Tim, for reading this first for me, and for sticking with it, even when I wouldn't write any for ages, and considering that we don't get along most of the time. Thankyou! Also, I came up with the idea for this story in maths class, which explains why it is so warped.  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE.  
  
  
It was the dead of the night. In the trees, dry leaves rubbed against each other with a harsh rasping sound, and somewhere in the dark shadows, eyes glinted, and an owl hooted. The cold wind whistled along the empty street- only the street wasn't as empty as it seemed.   
  
Four shapes emerged from the black shadowed, all meeting up in front of a large warehouse, the only building on the street- The street and building which all four shapes could have sworn wasn't there last week.   
  
"What are you doing here, mein freund?" whispered one shape to another.  
  
"I could ask you the same question, bub." The shape whispered back in a harsh, gravelly voice.  
  
Another figure laughed softly, and drew his long coat tightly around him to block out some of the cold, night air. "So nice to see ya 'ere, Wolverine."  
  
"Can it, Gumbo. I'm only here out of curiosity. Give me ten minutes, I'll be back to the bar kicking ass at the pool tables." the shape that was Wolverine growled.  
  
The fourth figure spoke up. "Great. I get invited here, and there's not one other evil mutant in sight. Only three bloody X-Geeks."  
  
"Toad!" The X-Men representatives exclaimed.  
  
Suddenly, the warehouse roller door rolled up, revealing a dark, cavernous interior. The four mutants looked at each other, shrugged, and walked inside into the dark.  
  
The moment the door shut behind them, fluorescent lights overhead flickered on, illuminating-  
  
"What is dis place?" Gambit whispered in awe. "Some sorta scientific lab?"  
  
"Ja, I zink so." Nightcrawler agreed.   
  
The warehouse was filled with hundreds of cylinders, all fogged up, and fancy gadgetry as far as the eye could see. The floors were white tiles, and the walls painted spotlessly white. The reflected gleam from the lights was enough to make all of them squint. Despite the cold efficiency of the place though, it was heated, and the warm air billowed over them.   
  
Wolverine sniffed the air. "I smell something." he muttered.  
  
"Well, there's a shock. Wolverine, smelling something. What is the world coming too!" Toad mumbled under his breath, and Wolverine gave him a death stare.   
  
Wolverine inhaled deeply again, and pointed towards a doorway nearly hidden at the back of the white chamber, as it blended in neatly to the walls. "That way."  
  
The four walked through the door, and into another chamber exactly like the one they had left, including the door in the back. Then, through the door into another room that had no apparent purpose, except to be really big, really empty, and really white. Through another door they went, then along several hallways, and up couple of staircases to walk through another few chambers like the first two- full of fancy gadgets, shiny metal, and big cylinders.   
  
"Somet'ing ain't right, mes amis." Gambit told them.   
  
"Gee, you think?" Toad said sarcastically. "Someone call the press! Something isn't right here. DUH!"  
  
Nightcrawler sighed. "Look, how about ve just get along until ve figure out why this warehouse has so many vooms, when it should have vun out of space a long time ago?"  
  
"Shut up, elf." The other three told him.   
  
Wolverine sniffed again, and popped his claws. "We're close now." he growled. "The smell is getting stronger. There's somethin' familiar about it..."  
  
The other three began prepping for battle, even as they walked. Nightcrawler flexed his toes and tail. Gambit pulled out a few cards, and Toad started hacking up something in the back of his throat.  
  
"You know, dat's really gross." Gambit told him.  
  
Toad just glared at him, and spat a little green goo on the floor.  
  
Wolverine stalked over to the next door to go through, sliced off the hinges, and pushed the door down-  
  
"Why don't you just use the knob next time." Toad muttered.  
  
- and began walking up the winding staircase which had been revealed. The other three followed him, until, panting with exhaustion from the long climb, they came to a doorway at the top.  
  
"How much do you bet zat zis is just another veird voom?" Nightcrawler asked.  
  
"I thought you holy men didn't gamble." Wolverine commented.  
  
Nightcrawler shrugged. "Zis isn't gambling. Zis is a sure thing."  
  
Wolverine sliced off the hinges again-  
  
"Knob." Toad mumbled.  
  
- and the door fell down to reveal an office.  
  
They entered, and looked around at the very plush room with wood paneling, heavy bookcases filled with comics and books, and a carved oaken desk with a large chair behind it. The chair was facing away from them, but, ala Return of the Jedi, slowly turned around to reveal...  
  
"AHHHHH!" The four grown men began screaming like girls, and there was a rush for the doorway. A thick metal door slammed down in place of the one that Wolverine had destroyed, and despite Wolverine's best efforts with his claws, it wouldn't budge.   
  
"Wolverine, please don't wear yourself out. That door is adamantium." The chair's occupant said lazily, taking a minuscule sip from the can of coke in her hand.  
  
Nightcrawler reached into a pocket, and pulled out an invitation with gold leaf edging, and fancy gold script. "Vas it you that sent us zese?"  
  
The teenage girl in the chair smiled. "Of course. Who else would have? I need to talk to you four."  
  
Gambit began charging up a card. "Petite, we don't know what game you're playin' but Gambit wants no part of it!"  
  
The girl widened her brown eyes in mock innocence. "Now Gambit, why would I be playing around in some sorta game?"  
  
Wolverine growled, and stood up close to the desk, leaned over it, and waved his claws menacingly at the girl. "Because you have no life, you sorry excuse for an author!"  
  
The author- because that's who it was, of course- simply smiled cheerfully at him. "Well, it's nice to see you too, Logan. How have you four been lately, anyway? Any deaths I should know about?"  
  
Toad stared at the author with an aghast look on his face for a moment, then began attacking the door, just as Wolverine had. "Let me out!" he howled. "Don't keep me here!"  
  
"Toad, quit it!" the author yelled. "There is no escape! Deal with it! The controls to that door are on the other side, and it can only be opened by my mind, or someone on that side." At this, the author grinned a small, knowing smile, but it quickly vanished off her face, and none of the other people in the room noticed.   
  
Toad spat again on the floor, this time in disgust.   
  
"Would you quit doing that!" Gambit yelled.  
  
Toad sneered. "Make me."  
  
"Make me make you." Gambit taunted.  
  
"Make me make you make me." Toad returned.  
  
"Both of you shut up, ja?" Nightcrawler told them.  
  
"Shut up, elf." They both said.  
  
"If all of you don't shut up, I'll be forced to take drastic actions." The author warned. "And quit being mean to Nightcrawler!"  
  
Wolverine leaped over the table at her, claws outstretched, and ready to attack. Sighing, the author held up a hand, freezing him in mid-air, and made him move backwards so he was no longer hovering over the desk. Then, she dropped the hand, and Wolverine dropped to the floor.   
  
"I like all of you guys a lot." The author told them. "And as a result, I don't want to have to hurt you. But you are trying my patience."  
  
"If you like us so much, why don't you let us go?" Toad asked.  
  
The author just stared at him. "You have got to be kidding. I'm an author. It's an unwritten rule that I have to mess with you people. I can't just let you go home without some evil plot taking place first that I can turn into a story later."   
  
"How about you just tell us what the flamin' hell is going on here?" Wolverine grumbled.   
  
"Well, I have been trying to tell you. But you keep acting like a bunch of four year olds." She countered. "Now, have a seat."  
  
Forest green smoke with glittery particles swirled in from nowhere, and when it cleared, four very comfortable looking chairs were revealed. The four mutants, sat down, after eyeing the chairs suspiciously.   
  
"Now, what's going on 'ere?" Gambit asked her.  
  
The author smiled widely. "Ah, yes, thankyou for asking. You are here because I need a DNA sample from each of you."  
  
The mutants all stood up, and began edging slowly away from her.   
  
"Darlin' I think it's time you took your medication." Wolverine informed her.  
  
The author began to laugh. "There's that sense of humour that women love. Maybe I can promote that as being a limited edition extra." She said thoughtfully.  
  
"Look here, idiot. You're not making a lot of sense." Toad said.   
  
"And it's startin' to piss me off." Wolverine growled.  
  
The author smiled at them, and leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "You're right, I'm not. Allow me to start again. After extensive research- basically, reading many stories on the net- I have determined that you four are the most popular mutant males in the X-Men genre. So, I have decided to clone you all, and sell you to fans- providing they have enough money of course."  
  
For a moment, the four men just stared at her. Then, simultaneously, they all stood up, and got as far away from her as possible.  
  
"Why me?" Toad groaned.   
  
"Because you are Movie Toad, and Movie Toad was extremely cool. Oh, quit being babies." She admonished them. "I only need a teeny bit of blood. Come here."  
  
"Sorry kid, but I think that one Wolverine is enough." Wolverine told her.  
  
The author shook her head. "The public doesn't agree. They want you, Logan! So, come here, put a few drops of blood in one of these test tubes, and you can all go home."  
  
"Nightcrawler, any time you want to help, you freak, would be a good time." Toad murmured.  
  
"Vhat do you- ohhhhh." Nightcrawler said, realization dawning on his blue furry features.   
  
The author just smiled a tiny smile. She had known all the time that they had the opportunity to escape. It just needed someone who wasn't completely incompetent to realise it.  
  
So, when Nightcrawler BAMF!ed out of the room, and the door opened, allowing the other three to escape, she didn't even bat an eyelid. She just smiled again, took a sip of the Coke she had created for herself earlier, and touched a small button inset into her desk.  
  
This was going to be fun.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Wolverine, Gambit, Toad and Nightcrawler had all run from the office as if hell's demons were at their heels. But when they reached the first of the many cloning chambers that they had to pass through, they all came to a dead stop, identical looks of confusion on their faces.   
  
The room was spinning. And instead of there being only one door out of it like previously, there was four. And the oddest thing of all, was that each door had a name on it.  
  
Toad.  
  
Nightcrawler.  
  
Gambit.  
  
Wolverine.  
  
"Which of de rooms do we pick? Gambit don't want ta go inta any of dem."  
  
"Well, we have to choose one if ve vant to get out." Nightcrawler said practically.  
  
"No shit, Sherlock." Toad sneered. "But WHICH ONE! We better choose before that psychopath comes after us."  
  
Wolverine sniffed the air. "Can't tell what door we came through. It's like this is a completely new room." He popped his claws, an infuriated expression of his face. "What the hell has she done!"  
  
"We know dat de petite is crazy. Dis only proves it.' Gambit said. "I say dat we split up and go through different doors. Maybe she t'inks we will stay together, non? Dis will surprise her. And, dat way, at least one of us is certain ta get out, and can get help. De exit has ta be through one of dese doors."  
  
The other three considered for a moment.  
  
"I'm in." said Nightcrawler.  
  
"Me too!" piped up Toad.  
  
"Not leavin' me out, bub." said Wolverine. He rubbed his claws together in anticipation, and sparks flew. He headed over to the door marked 'Wolverine' and prepared to open it- by slicing off the hinges, of course.  
  
"Wolverine, wait!" Gambit yells. "She may have prepared for dis sorta situation, dat's why de doors be marked with out names."  
  
"Thought you said she wouldn't expect this, Gumbo." Wolverine growled.  
  
Gambit shrugged helplessly. "Gambit not de author. Gambit don't know what de crazy fille will do. But I t'ink we should be as unpredictable as possible."  
  
Wolverine glared at him, but stomped over to the door marked Toad. Throwing it open, he walked in, and slammed it shut behind him.  
  
Gambit chose to go to the Nightcrawler door. Hesitating for a second, he seemed to grit his teeth, as he opened the door, and quietly closed it behind him.  
  
Toad just gave Nightcrawler a filthy look, then went through Gambit's door.   
  
Sighing with exasperation, Nightcrawler went to the door he was left with. Wolverine. With his luck, it would be full of killer Sentinels.  
  
"Wolverine vould love zat." Nightcrawler muttered, and entered.  
  
Beyond the door, Nightcrawler could see only blackness. But when the door shut, Nightcrawler suddenly found himself in-  
  
A forest?  
  
And not just any forest. A cold, wet one. Crisp white snow crunched under his three toed foot, and Nightcrawler shivered in his pathetically thin spandex super-hero costume.  
  
"Great. I vould get ze room full of snow." he said aloud. "And vhy am I talking to myself?" That was something to think about.  
  
A gust of wind blew, and Nightcrawler shivered again. Darn wind chill factor! The snow billowed around him, and settled in his blue hair. It rested on his uniform for a fraction of a second, before melting through, and soaking his fur. Nightcrawler groaned. It took forever for him to dry out!  
  
Feeling incredibly depressed, he began to head in a random direction in the hopes he would find civilisation. He had only gone a few hundred meters though, when the snow started to fall so heavily he couldn't see in front of him.  
  
Stoically, he bore it, and continued through the woods. Having being raised in Germany, he was used to the cold, but this was ridiculous. Nightcrawler had never willingly walked outside in a blizzard while wearing spandex before. He was determined to keep going until he got help.   
  
Well, that's what he told himself before he hit the tree.   
  
Head down to try and keep the harsh wind out of his eyes, he didn't even see it appearing in front of him out of the snow as he approached it. As a result, he hit hard, bouncing back and clutching his nose.  
  
"Damn it!" Nightcrawler yelled in a very un-priestly manner.   
  
Suddenly, a cloud of green, sparkly smoke swirled up as the wind blew again, and the author stepped out.  
  
"Ahh!" Nightcrawler yelled, stumbling backwards to get away from her Royal Insane-ness. He tripped over a damp, fallen tree branch, and landed ungracefully on his butt in a snow bank.  
  
The author laughed merrily. "Nightcrawler, stand up. I'm sure you're cold as it is, without deliberately lounging in the snow. What would your mother say if you got pneumonia?"  
  
Nightcrawler's pointed teeth were chattering, but he didn't reply. The author looked nice and warm in her ski jacket, thick pants and earmuffs, but he didn't say anything.   
  
The author regarded him sympathetically. "Poor thing. I bet you're wishing you had gone through the door with your name on it now."  
  
"Vhere..vhere am I?" Nightcrawler asked. If he wasn't already blue, he was sure he would be turning that colour. She was right about sitting in a snow bank. Not the smartest thing in the world. So, he stood up, and tried to face her with determination and grace.  
  
The author grinned insanely. "Nightcrawler, I'd like to welcome you to Canada. Home of Wolverine."  
  
Nightcrawler just stared at her for a moment, comprehending what she had just said. Then, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and he groaned. "And ze others...zey have gone into ze former lives of ze person who's door zey entered?"  
  
The author grinned again. "Yep!" She said cheerfully. "You got this lovely environment. Aren't you lucky? I always liked the snow, I don't see much of it where I live." Scooping up a handful of snow, she began to make snowballs.  
  
Nightcrawler shut his yellow eyes, and gave a quick prayer to God. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the author was regarding him with an amused look on her face, pile of snowballs at her side.   
  
"Tell you what. I've always had a soft place for blue fur." She began, as green smoke covered her arm, and cleared to reveal a mug of something steaming in the cold air, and a thick blue ski jacket draped over her arm. "These are for you. I bet you'd like these." she said in a sugar sweet voice.  
  
Nightcrawler closed his eyes again, and said to himself over and over, "I vill not be tempted, I vill not be tempted, I vill not be tempted..."  
  
The author stepped closer. "I'll give you these," She said in the same honey coated voice, "and all you have to do for me in return is give me a tiny blood sample." She took another step closer.  
  
Nightcrawler could smell what was in the mug now. Hot chocolate. He could see the white marshmallows floating in it. His mouth watered, and his will weakened. He was seriously considering accepting, when he suddenly had a vision of hundreds of blue furry copies of himself running around, and that made up his mind for him.  
  
"Sorry, Author, but I vill have to decline." He told her firmly.  
  
The author's eyes narrowed, and her smile faltered for a second, before returning as strong as ever. "That's cool. It's your choice." She told him. "Maybe one of your friends will be more agreeable. I'll leave you alone now. Just call me if you change your mind." She disappeared.  
  
"Leave me alone? Ha! Zat you won't! I know zat you vill be back to bother me." Nightcrawler said, as something occurred to him. "Hey! How am I supposed to get out of zis place?"  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
The moment what was behind the door came into view, Gambit's jaw dropped. He had been expecting dinosaurs, or the author's office again, or even the set of Star Trek, knowing the author's sick sense of humour.   
  
Not what looked like a circus.  
  
Gambit had emerged on a tower near the top of the tent on one of the trapeze columns. He looked down in awe. There was hundreds of people, all staring up at the roof, their faces creamy ovals with smudged features, he was so far up.  
  
Gambit looked across at the opposite trapeze tower, and watched with amazement as a figure in a green outfit swung off on a trapeze, hanging by their feet alone. Amazing.   
  
The person was at the bottom of their arc now, and was swinging up towards him, brown hair streaming behind like the tail of a kite, and hands outstretched.  
  
Misinterpreting the gesture, Gambit reached out his hands to help the person onto the platform. Before he knew what was happening, the trapeze artist had grabbed his wrists, and was swinging them both back to the other platform.  
  
The audience below began exclaiming loudly, and pointing, while the children clapped their hands in delight.  
  
"Mon Dieu!" Gambit gasped. "Excuse moi, but you have grabbed de wrong person."  
  
"Oh, I don't think so." the artist said, in a now disturbingly familiar voice.  
  
"Author! Oh no!" Gambit yelled. He craned his neck up as best he could to see her face, which was beaming down at him, as they began another arc. "Let me go!"  
  
"Alright." She said, and let go of his wrists.  
  
"Ahhh! MERDE!" Gambit cried out, as he dropped towards the ground. As he plummeted, he could see the audience gazing at him, following him with their eyes. He hit the suspended safety net with enough force to jar his teeth, and groaned with relief as he realised that he hadn't fallen to his death.  
  
Above him, the author disappeared, then reappeared in a cloud of green smoke beneath him, throwing her hands up in a gesture of triumph.  
  
The audience clapped and cheered loudly, and she bowed, her dark green sequined costume glinting under the lights. She laughed, and waved her hands at the audience, who cheered even louder.  
  
Gambit just lay in the net for a few moments, before swinging himself over the edge, and dropping lightly to the ground, despite the considerable distance.  
  
The author glanced over at him, and smiled. Gambit didn't like the look of it at all. And there was something about this place that reminded him of someone...  
  
"Nightcrawler." Gambit muttered to himself, thinking aloud. "Nightcrawler and de circus..."  
  
Suddenly, there was a loud honking noise behind him. Gambit whirled around to see a tiny orange VW entering the ring. "Author, what de hell is goin' on 'ere?" he yelled, turning back to her. But she was gone, with only a few wisps of smoke in the air as testament to her prior presence.   
  
Gambit sighed. "Fantastique." he mumbled.  
  
Six clowns tumbled out of the little VW and surrounded Gambit. To the Cajun mutant, their painted faces were menacing, not humourous, and when they grinned at him, it was sadistic and vicious smiles.   
  
The audience began to laugh, as the clown with the dopiest hat grabbed a cream pie from a nearby table, and grinned wickedly at him, eyes glinting menacingly in the spot light.  
  
"Oh non you don't!" Gambit warned, backing away. "I don't want ta 'urt you, Ronald McDonald, cause you look ridiculous 'nuff, without moi makin' your face look funny. But I will if ya bother me. So shoo!"  
  
Two clowns came up behind Gambit, and grabbed his arms. Trapped as he was, he couldn't reach the cards inside on of the deep pockets of his jacket.   
  
"Hey, let Gambit go!" He protested. "Dis ain't funny!"  
  
The head clown just grinned even more. Then, he slammed the pie into Gambit's face.  
  
The pie plate clattered to the floor, as cream dripped from Gambit's face on to his beloved jacket. The two clowns let him go, and he rubbed some of the cream out of his red on black eyes. The audience roared with laughter as he stood there, frosting covered eyelashes threatening to stick together with each blink.  
  
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the author dressed in a garish black and red ringmasters costume, brass buttons winking up at him.  
  
"You!" Gambit said angrily, leveling a finger at her. "You did dis! You take me 'ere." He reached into his pocket, and removed his bo staff. Gambit extended it, and prepared to hit her with it if she tried anything, even if she was a girl. "Dis is de circus where Nightcrawler used to live, isn't it." His last comment was a statement, not a question.  
  
The author batted her eyelashes innocently, and pulled a box of tissues out from behind her back. "Kleenex?"  
  
Gambit reached out to grab a few, but she pulled them tantalizingly out of his reach. "Tut tut. You know what I want in return. Something tiny, and rather insignificant, that you won't really miss..."  
  
Gambit shook his head firmly. He had made up his mind at the start of the madness, and nothing was going to change it. "Sorry author, but dere be enough Gambit's in de world already. One. Don't need ta be anymore."  
  
The author laughed. "Ok then." Green smoke swirled up, and she began to disappear. Before her head vanished though, she said, "By the way, I think the magic segment is next. They'll probably be looking for a 'volunteer' for the cutting in half trick..." her voice trailed off as she vanished.  
  
Gambit gulped as the evil clowns crept towards him, the menacing light returning to their eyes. This was going to be hell.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
  
MWAHAHAHA! And that is the end of the first chapter. Expect regular updates- the next chapter is all ready, I'm just proofreading it. By the way, I am aware it is impossible to clone from DNA, but it's easier to get a blood sample than a sperm sample. Look out for the second chapter of "What if?!- Green Eyed Girl", I am going to write more...eventually. Oh, and REVIEWS inspire me to update.  
  
PLEASE DO NOT CALL MY SELF-INSERTATION INTO THE STORY MARY-SUEISM! I AM FAR FROM PERFECT!! I AM JUST ODD! 


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Ummm...not mine? Yay, I'm right, what do I win?!?!  
  
AUTHORS NOTES: If you don't know what's going on, go back and read chapter 1. It wont help any, cause the whole story is nutty, but I still want you to read it, heehee.   
  
  
  
CHAPTER 2.  
  
  
Wolverine sniffed the air uneasily. The dark London street smelt bad. Very bad. He couldn't quite place it- somewhere between ash and rotting leaves. A distinctive mixture that he had smelt before on the few times he had been to London.  
  
Before the scene had even opened up in front of Wolverine, before the door had shut, he had smelt that particular stench, and known exactly where he was. The scent of sewerage thrown into the mix had confirmed just where in was in London. He was in a sewer under the city, and it smelt worse than anything before, with the possible exception of dead skunk.  
  
Wolverine had tried desperately to return, but the door had slammed shut and disappeared, and the sewer had mysteriously come into view. Unable to go back, he had decided to go up, despite the fact that there was only cement above him.   
  
London now had a new manhole, courtesy of his claws.  
  
So, he had wandered around the general area in the slums of the city looking for a clue of how he could go back, until something struck him- a familiar scent.  
  
He sniffed the air again. There was no doubt about it. Magneto was here somewhere. Wolverine could smell the faint metallic tinge that covered him, and he seemed to magnetize every metal thing he walked past. Wolverine could feel his bones wanting to stick to stuff whenever he brushed up against them, and it was driving him crazy.  
  
Wolverine turned into an alley filled with overflowing trash cans, rats, and fighting, clawing cats. He was close now. Despite the stench of the alley, Magneto's trail was strong.  
  
Wolverine stealthily walked down the alley, until the trail disappeared into a doorway inset into one of the tall buildings lining the narrow street. Frowning, he tried to open the door, as he wondered what Magneto would want in a dump like this.  
  
It was locked.  
  
Growling in frustration, he unlocked the door, by popping his claws and slicing off the knob. Then, he sliced off the hinges for good measure, and kicked the door done warily. The last time he had gone through a door, he had wound up in London. Naturally, he was a bit suspicious of them.  
  
There was no other town or place behind the door though. Only a winding, rusted metal staircase and walls which were dripping with moisture. The scent trail went up the shaky staircase, so Wolverine followed it up to the second floor, where he was greeted by the sight of a row of numbered doors. He realised abruptly that the filthy structure was an apartment building.  
  
Ignoring the painfully obvious smells of young children, and focusing only on Magneto's metallic signature, he followed it to room 2C.  
  
Wolverine pressed an ear against the door. He could hear someone moving around inside, and could smell who it was..   
  
Wolverine twisted the knob eagerly, anticipating a fight, and stepped into the squalid apartment, which was the source of the moisture on the walls downstairs.   
  
Magneto was standing in the middle of the room, in the stance that Wolverine had privately thought made him look like he had a wedgie, and smiled. "Ah, you must be Toad. Greetings. I am Magneto."  
  
Wolverine hastily stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Toad? There was only three answers to this puzzle. 1) Magneto was going crazy, 2) He was going crazy, or 3)-  
  
"That's right Wolverine. Very clever, you're the first to figure it out, although the others aren't far behind you."  
  
Wolverine spun around, and glared his most deadly stare at the author as she stepped out of her green cloud. "What the flamin' hell is goin' on here?"  
  
The author, dressed in a simple white dress that looked dazzlingly bright and clean compared to the rest of the apartment building smiled smugly, and Wolverine resisted the urge to use his claws to slice it off her face.  
  
"You tell me what's going on. You did figure it out, after all." She told him.  
  
"When we walked through the doors, we stepped into the lives of the people who's name was on it." Wolverine said with a sinking feeling. "So, here, people who knew Toad think I'm him."  
  
The author clapped her hands mockingly. "Very good, my furry little man."  
  
Wolverine growled in the back of his throat. "I'd rather talk to Magneto than you, you lousy author."  
  
Turning, he re-entered the apartment, and shut the door behind him, preparing to talk with the incredibly boring Magneto. The aforementioned villain was still standing in the middle of the room, and was now staring at Wolverine as if he had turned into a big hairy spider. "Is something wrong?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing at all, bub." Wolverine told him. It might actually be kinda fun to play the villain for once in his life. And even if he didn't like it, who cared? That's what claws were for.  
  
Magneto gave him a hesitant smile, the kind that says 'I'm trapped in a room with a madman' but he started to talk again. Wolverine repressed a sigh, and made himself listen.  
  
"Toad, you no longer need fear oppression from the human scum." Magneto said grandly, and Wolverine resisted- barely- the urge to cough into his hand 'bullshit.'  
  
Magneto continued. "I am offering you the chance to join me and my Brotherhood of Mutants. Will you join?"   
  
Wolverine shrugged. "Sure, why the hell not?"  
  
"Excellent!" Magneto said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "We shall leave for my base in Antarctica tomorrow. But first, we must pick up our colleague, a mutant called Sabretooth."  
  
Wolverine's blood froze. "Sabretooth? Bub, you gotta be outta your mind!" He said angrily, before opening the door and leaving again. He had to have a few words with a certain author.   
  
As he had thought, she was still outside. When she saw Wolverine, she began to laugh. "So, you finally remembered your old pal? Bet you'd LOVE to work with him!"  
  
Wolverine popped his claws, and advanced on her slowly, more than willing to slice her into chop suey. Just so long as he could wipe the smug look of her smarmy face.  
  
The author regarded him with a look of faint interest on her face, before asking, "How do you plan to get back if I am dead?"  
  
Wolverine stopped. He hadn't thought of that. He was a 'kill with my adamantium claws, think about stuff later' kinda guy, and while he desperately wanted to kill her, he knew that the author was his only ticket back to the real world.   
  
"How do I get back?" He asked her.  
  
The author grinned maliciously. "Give me a sample of your blood. I'll let you live in peace then- well, for a little while. A few weeks at least, all to yourself. And if I do put you in any more weird situations, I won't be there for the next few stories."  
  
Wolverine considered. In his opinion, this was a pretty good deal. "Promise?"  
  
The author smiled sweetly. "Sure, I guess." She produced a test tube from somewhere within the volumous sleeves of her white dress.  
  
Wolverine took the test tube in his hand, and stared at it for a moment, before closing his hand over the cool glass to think. He didn't like the idea of quitting, but the very thought of working with that bastard Sabretooth made his stomach churn. Which was he to pick? Giving into one of the most diabolical authors ever, or teaming up with Sabretooth?  
  
His thought were interrupted by a sharp pain shooting through his hand and up his arm, and he opened his fist to reveal a crushed test tube. He had squeezed it so hard it had broken in his grasp.  
  
"Damnit, be careful!" The author scolded, producing another crystalline tube.  
  
Wolverine watched dis-interestedly as his mangled palm started to heal quickly. He was about to turn the author down- he had honour, after all- when, quick as lighting, the author darted in, and scooped up some blood into the test tube she was holding.   
  
Wolverine roared, and tried to slice at her with his claws, but she nimbly dodged out of the way, and he encountered air only. He slashed at her again, and she ducked underneath the deadly adamantium.   
  
"Thankyou!" She said cheerfully, disappearing in her smoke cloud once more. Wolverine felt his blood boil, and he knew that he was on the verge of going berserk. He had never met a person who infuriated him as much as the author did.   
  
"You could at least let me go, now that you have my DNA, you heartless bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you, you sick, twisted pain in the ass!?" Wolverine yelled to the air in fury.  
  
At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, green smoke began to swirl up, slowly swallowing him whole.   
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Toad blinked his yellow eyes in shock as his surroundings came into focus. He recognized the area- he had been here on a mission for Magneto only six months ago, to meet a useful contact with information for the Brotherhood. Toad couldn't figure out why on earth he was in the New Orleans swamp. He had expected to find the way out, knowing the author's soft spot for Gambit, who's name was on the door, or at least another room. Not a whole new town.   
  
He began to trek through the swamps, hoping he was heading in the general direction of the city. There was a huge mansion which he could see that was not too far away, but Toad didn't feel like asking them for help. They'd probably just scream 'mutant' and call the cops on him.   
  
Toad decided that when he got into the city, the first thing he would do was call Magneto, and talk him in to bombing the evil factory. When Magneto heard who was behind it, Toad was sure that he would be happy to blow it to kingdom come.   
  
He was relishing in the beautiful thoughts of flaming factories, and burning authors when he saw the figure seemingly melt out of the darkness, and call out to him.   
  
"Shit!" Toad hissed.  
  
"Remy!" The person called out, jogging towards him. "Remy, what are you doin' out 'ere?"  
  
Toad checked over his shoulder. He couldn't see anyone else behind him who may be the Remy that the person was calling out too. "Who the bloody hell are you?" He called back irritably. "And who's Remy?"  
  
The person- whom Toad could now see was a man- gave him a funny look before stepping into place beside him, matching his quick pace. "You're Remy s'far as I know. And last I check, I be your cousin Lapin.  
  
Toad began to laugh. He knew a little French. "Lapin? Your name is Rabbit?"  
  
The man looked a little miffed. "You know full well it's a nickname, Remy. And you're not one to talk, mon cousin. Or should I call you Gambit?"  
  
Toad tried to control his surprise. This lunatic thought he was Gambit? On any other night, when the author wasn't involved, he might have found it amusing. Instead, he frowned. Something very odd was going on here, and he would have bet all the money he owned that a certain crazy teenage author was behind it all. Shrugging, Toad decided to go along with it for now. The women seemed to like the Cajun, and if they thought he was Gambit...well, that was all right with him!  
  
He followed the man called Lapin (a name which was still making him chuckle) towards the large house he had seen nearby when he appeared in New Orleans. As they drew closer, Toad could hear music from a few years ago belting out, and Toad almost laughed. This day and age and they were still listening to music that in his opinion was ancient? Still, Toad mused as they entered the house, 'Lady Marmalade' was a pretty catchy song. And the old film clip with the four divas...Toad grinned to himself.  
  
Lapin (Toad still had no idea what his real name was) gave Toad a big smile. "So, ready ta marry Bella tomorrow? Could mean de end of your days of charm."  
  
Toad gaped for a second. Gambit had been MARRIED?!?! Wow, the things you found out about a person when their friends thought you were them. He definitely had to find out more. So, he gave Lapin a big, froggy grin in return. "You bet your ass I am, Bugs."  
  
Lapin glared at him. "If it twern't yer bachelor party, Remy, I'd kick yer ass for calling me dat!"  
  
Toad laughed, and went to mingle. This was a great opportunity, in his opinion.  
  
For the rest of the night, Toad acted like the biggest jerk he was capable of being, which actually didn't require too much effort. After a while, people began to assume he had had just a little too much to drink- this only encouraged Toad to act like more of a bastard.   
  
He was in the process of annoying the hell out of Gambit's adopted father, a middle aged guy called Jean-Luc, when a huge cake was wheeled into the room on a trolley by two caterers in white uniforms. Grinning, they beat a hasty retreat, as all the chatter in the room stopped, and amused smiles came across the faces of all the men, despite the fact that most were pretty pissed off at him.  
  
Lapin took Toad by the shoulders from behind, and guided him over to the cake. "'Appy bachelor party, Remy. You're a jerk," at this, all the men began to laugh, "and you get on our nerves," random applause broke out, "you steal ALL de fine femmes," at this, everyone began cheering in agreement, "but we wish you de best of luck in your life after de marriage. We know dat it's goin' ta be tough livin' with dat shrew Bella for de good of de Guilds." A standing ovation was given now.  
  
Lapin handed Toad a large knife, which glinted in the bright light. Before Toad could cut into the cake though, the top burst open, and a striking woman with blonde braids and blue eyes in a long, blue, glittery ball gown stood up.  
  
"Merci, Emil. Shrew, am I?" She asked Lapin coolly, and, grinning, he shrugged.  
  
Toad gaped as she carefully stepped out, and gave him a long, passionate kiss, while the watching men laughed. Lapin- or Emil- slapped Toad around the shoulders so hard he nearly fell over.  
  
"Bella 'ere wouldn't let us hire a real stripper." He explained. "Dis femmes gonna keep you on a short leash Remy."  
  
Toad coughed a little in embarrassment, as Bella smiled seductively at him. The one thought that just wouldn't get out of his mind was 'Why did the Cajun leave all this to join the X-Freaks? Toad's head felt like it was going to explode.  
  
"Excuse me. I need to go outside for a moment." He announced, walking out of the room, and leaving a very suprised looking Bella Donna in his wake.  
  
Toad walked out onto a little balcony he found coming off a room on the second floor, and sighed. He was quickly getting bored with this place, and being thought of as Gambit, and wanted to go kill someone who recognised him for him.  
  
Spotting a bird in a nearby tree, he quickly reached out with his tongue, grabbed it, and swallowed it whole. Toad didn't particularly like the taste of raw bird, but it helped to keep his tongue limber. He coughed lightly as a feather tickled the back of his throat, and nearly leaped off the balcony when someone slapped him on the back.  
  
"Better, Toad?" The person asked.  
  
"Much better, than- Hey!" He suddenly realised that this person had called him by his code name. He turned around, and groaned. Floating in midair, wearing a trench coat, and looking very pleased with herself was the author.  
  
"Go away!" Toad yelled. "Just leave me alone!"  
  
The author regarded him with pity. "I can't just leave you alone, unless you give me a blood sample. I do need a plot after all. And I could just leave you alone if that's what you REALLY want...but then you'd be left with all these people thinking you are Remy for the rest of your life."  
  
Toad glared at her, and seriously considered reaching out with his tongue and slapping her upside the head. "Piss. Off."  
  
The author shook her head. "Tut tut. Language! Why won't you give me a teeny bit?"  
  
Toad gritted his teeth. "How many times do I have to say it?" He asked her. "Just piss off!"  
  
She shrugged, and smiled smugly. "Bet you'll be sick of it soon. Bye!"  
  
"Why do you think that?" Toad asked demanded but she had already disappeared.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Nightcrawler trudged through the snow, cursing in a surprisingly fluent way for a man as devoted to God as he was. He was cold. He could imagine his toes succumbing to frostbite, even as he walked.  
  
At least swearing helped to keep him warm.  
  
His whole body was numb, except for a faint burning, tingling sensation, which hurt in a distant kind of way. While a few minutes ago, Nightcrawler would have done anything to get rid of that feeling, as a tan and brown snarling missile slammed into him, he was suddenly glad for it.  
  
He flew through the air, and smashed into a tree, stunned, then fell to the ground, with a yelp of pain.  
  
Wet bark biting into his back, and freezing snow cradling him, Nightcrawler blearily focused his frozen eyes on the advancing figure. Somewhere, somehow in the back of his mind he recognized the animal like creature as Sabretooth. Fan-flipping-tastic.  
  
"Whatsa matter, Wolverine?" He sneered. "Gone soft? Ya didn't even smell me comin', ya weakling."  
  
Wolverine? Huh? Nightcrawler's head was whirling, and not only from the crash into the tree. Another piece of the jigsaw puzzle had just fallen into place for him.  
  
Sabretooth walked over to him, and looked down at Nightcrawler, disdain clear in his slitted cat-eyes. Despite the cold, he looked perfectly comfortable- which irritated Nightcrawler no end.  
  
"Please Sabretooth." Nightcrawler murmured weakly. His voice was raw from not being used in an attempt to conserve heat, and the freezing conditions. "You have ze wrong person."  
  
Sabretooth stared at him, puzzlement all over his face, and for a moment, Nightcrawler though that he might just go away. But then, hand moving so fast that it was a blur, Sabretooth reached down and slashed a hand across Nightcrawler's chest. Thanks to the blessed cold though, the blue mutant barely felt a thing, even though he knew he should be in pain.   
  
Nightcrawler staggered to his feat, and glared defiantly at Sabretooth. He was determined to win now. It was one thing to let yourself be pushed around by an author- it was quite another matter to be pushed around by Sabretooth, and Nightcrawler wasn't going to stand for it.   
  
The blond mutant laughed heartily. "So, decided to fight me after all, wimp?" he lunged at Nightcrawler, who BAMF!ed away before he could get hit again.  
  
Nightcrawler re-appeared again just above Sabretooth, and gave him a quick, dirty kick to the head, before teleporting again. When he reappeared again though, he collapsed to the ground. Fighting the blizzard as he walked through it, and the deep bloody gash on his chest had sapped him of his strength. He was too weak to teleport again.  
  
Sabretooth, growling, walked over. "I don't know how ya did that, Wolverine, but yer gonna pay for it, runt."  
  
"Author, help!" Nightcrawler cried out planitively.  
  
Time seemed to stop. Sabretooth, who had been lining Nightcrawler up to punt him over the trees, froze in a ridiculous pose that should have been impossible to manage, as it defied gravity.  
  
Even the wind seemed to stop, and Nightcrawler could see snowflakes frozen in midair. He crawled over to one, still to weak to stand, and admired it, suspended in all it's glory in midair. Blood escaping from his injuries stained the pristine white snow, and in a way, Nightcrawler thought absentmindedly, it was pretty too.   
  
"You called?" Came the familiar, mocking voice.  
  
Nightcrawler had never before felt relief at the sight of the author. She was still dressed in her ski jacket and earmuffs, which made Nightcrawler even more jealous than he had ever been before- but he was still immensely glad to see her.  
  
"Please...please help me." Nightcrawler said through gritted teeth, though it made his stomach churn to say it.  
  
The author smiled. "And what will you give me in exchange?"  
  
Nightcrawler hissed through his pointed teeth. "You can have a DNA sample." He said reluctantly.  
  
Grinning triumphantly and kneeling beside him, the author pulled a test tube out of her pocket. Collecting a little from the deep wounds on his chest, she sealed it up, and safely tucked it away.  
  
She looked Nightcrawler in the eyes briefly, and Nightcrawler saw an honest emotion on her face that wasn't cruel- pity. For him. Her forehead dimpled in a look of concentration, and, holding out a hand over the cuts, which were bleeding heavily, green smoke collected. When it cleared away, the deep gashes were no more. The only proof of their existence was his shredded spandex costume.  
  
The author stood up, and gestured absent mindedly at him. Green smoke slowly swallowed him up, and everything went black. For a moment, Nightcrawler floated in the eerie blackness, before he noticed a green light which he was heading for. The green light enveloped him, before disappearing, and he felt the distinct sensation of falling.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Gambit thrashed madly as three of the surprisingly strong clowns dragged him over to the cabinet. "Non! Gambit don' want ta go in dere!"   
  
The clowns tried to stuff him into the cabinet where he would be sliced up like a turkey, and he twisted and turned in their grip even more. "Non! Stop it! MERDE!!"  
  
Another two clowns raced over to help, and together, the five managed to get him in, and shut the door, with his head sticking out the end. The audience was nearly dying from laughter at his predicament, as Gambit kicked and punched the insides of the box.  
  
"Please! Sil vous plais!" He cried out, as the biggest woman he had ever seen in his life came over to him, holding in her hands what was possibly the biggest, sharpest looking saw known to man.  
  
"Ahhhh!" Gambit hollered. "Someone, 'elp me. What did Gambit ever do ta you?"  
  
Off to the side, a green smoke cloud swirled up, and the author reappeared, still dressed in her ringmasters outfit. "Ready to give in now?" She called out, laughing.  
  
"Never!" Gambit spat.  
  
The author's cheeky grin just grew even wider. "Maybe I can convince you..." She reached into her pocket, and pulled out two test tubes with a bit of red in them.  
  
Gambit just stared for a moment. "Who do dey belong too?" He asked her.  
  
"Guess."  
  
Gambit thought about it. "Nightcrawler and Toad?" he guessed.  
  
The author shook her head. "Nope."  
  
Gambit stared so hard at her that his eyes nearly fell out of his head. "WOLVERINE gave in?! No way!"  
  
The author just gave him an obnoxiously mysterious smile, and said to the large circus woman, "You can continue."  
  
The woman smiled at the author, lank blond hair sticking to her cheeks, and placed her saw on the top of the box, and started to cut through it.  
  
Gambit sucked in his breath, trying to get away from the shiny blade. He felt it hit his body armor with a harsh grating sound.   
  
"Ok, ok!" He yelped. "Let Gambit out! We negotiate, non?"  
  
The author shook her head. "Nope. No negotiations. I get a sample of your blood willingly, or I let that saw go through you, and I get some DNA that way."  
  
Gambit hesitated for a second. But then, the saw gave a particularly jarring scrape against his armor, and he nodded furiously. "Ok! I go along with it. JUST LET ME OUT OF 'ERE!"  
  
Green smoke encased him, and for a moment all he saw was blackness, then green light. He could feel that he was sitting on something, and could now see that the green was a cloud of slowly dispersing smoke. He breathed in, inhaling a little of the smoke, and began to cough as it tickled the back of his throat.  
  
As the smoke vanished completely, he realised that the author was no where in sight, and he was sitting on top of what he now referred to as "The Cabinet of Doom." The painted and lacquered surface reflected light back up at him, and there was a deep cut right through the center. Gambit shuddered, and made himself look away from it. He busied himself by checking out the condition of his body armor. He hissed in annoyance as he realised that there was a deep groove in it, and that the saw had been very close to cutting though.  
  
Suddenly, something sharp dug into the back of his neck, and pain flared up through his head. "Ow!" Gambit yelped, jumping off the box, and landing on the saw dust covered floor. "What de..."  
  
The author had been behind him. She grinned, and held up a syringe with a tiny bit of blood in it. "Merci, Monsieur LeBeau." She told him, eyes flashing with excitement as she made the needle disappear in a cloud of green.   
  
Gambit glared at her as menacingly as he was able to manage. "And jus' what de hell do ya t'ink you be doin', you sorcière diabolique?" He demanded, words becoming slightly garbled as his accent thickened in anger.   
  
The author sighed, in mock exasperation, as if Gambit was a petulant child. "Taking a blood sample, of course. What did you think?"  
  
Gambit rubbed the back of his neck, which was steadily throbbing, and his fingers came away damp with blood. "Gambit dunno what he be t'inkin', but he sure weren't 'specting you ta stab me in da back of de neck!"  
  
The author frowned, and pulled something from one of her many pockets. "Bandaid?"  
  
Gambit watched her warily, eyes never leaving hers as he darted in and grabbed the bandaid.  
  
"Now, say thankyou." She admonished him.  
  
"Merci." Gambit grumbled reluctantly, applying the plastic strip to the back of his neck as best he could. "Now, how 'bout lettin' Gambit outta dis loony bin now, non?"  
  
She just laughed. "Nightcrawler would be VERY insulted to hear you say that! I'm sure the rest of these lovely people would be hurt too, to hear that you didn't enjoy your stay." She waved cheerfully at the clowns, and they waved back.  
  
"Trust you ta be friends with dese freaks." Gambit muttered. "You know what you are, petite? Sadistic. And creepy. And a sadomasochist. And..and..."  
  
"An author?" She supplied.  
  
"Yes!" Gambit said triumphantly. "An auteur. Do you have any idea how sick you are? Speakin' of sick, dese people take de cake. How on earth did da elf put up with dese gens insensé for so long..."  
  
He was still complaining as the green smoke took him away from the circus.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Toad stretched his arms and legs, as he woke up in the luxurious bed. Then, for good measure, he stretched his tongue as well, quickly snapping it out, then back in.   
  
So far, Toad was having an extremely good time, living Gambit's life. Of course, there was a dampner on the situation- being naturally paranoid, Toad couldn't help thinking that the author was using all of this to her advantage.  
  
Yawning, he sat up in bed, looked around at the beautiful room, and shook his head in awe. Toad had always thought the Cajun was a bit of an idiot, but he was obviously a bigger dork than he had originally thought. Toad couldn't imagine leaving behind something like this, and taking up a job in Xavier's band of losers.  
  
Suddenly, there was a crashing sound from outside the door, and Emil- or Bugs, as Toad had taken to calling him- burst through the door, slightly out of breath. He stared at Toad, goggle eyed.  
  
"Remy, what ya doin' in bed still?" he gasped. "We gotta be at de wedding soon!"   
  
Toad stared at him, alcohol fogged brain not comprehending for a moment, before it occurred to him that after a bachelor party, a wedding usually followed, and Emil was dressed in a tux, with his hair neatly styled.  
  
Toad groaned, and flopped back into bed. "I'm tired." He whined. "Tell the blonde I'll marry her tomorrow. I need sleep."  
  
Emil stared at him, astonished, than began to laugh. Toad just frowned. That wasn't the response he had been expecting from him.   
  
Still laughing, Emil opened up the closet, and pulled out a crisp tuxedo. The black contrasted sharply to the white walls of the room. "Her ya go, Remy. I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes, non?"  
  
"Non, you won't actually." Toad said sarcastically, but Emil ignored him, and left, shutting the door after him.   
  
Moaning, Toad literally rolled out of the bed, and lay on the floor for a moment, before dragging himself to his feet and pulling on the tux. Maybe this was the author's form of torture. If it was, Toad had to admit that it was pretty effective.  
  
Stumbling out of his- no Gambit's room, Toad reminded himself- he stepped over the shards of porcelain outside his door (which looked suspiciously like the expensive vase that had rested on a pedestal near the door last night, and was obviously the source of the crash earlier) and stumbled, barefoot, downstairs, to be greeted by the oddest sight ever.  
  
A row of men was lined up in the living room, as if for inspection. Toad recognised some of the men from last night. While they had been loud and boisterous the previous evening, they now were as well-behaved as choir boys, and Emil was among them. And that's when Toad saw the drill inspector. A large, elderly woman with a long floral scarf wrapped around her greying hair. When she heard Toad's footsteps on the stairs, she turned and fixed him with a death stare that would have made Sabretooth proud.  
  
"Remy LeBeau!" She snapped. "Jus' what did you t'ink you were doin'? Plannin' on laying around all day, hmm?"  
  
Toad took a moment to decipher what she said in her thick Cajun accent, and frowned. He was not in the mood for crap today. "Look, lady." He said in a low, dangerous tone. "I don't know who the bloody hell you are, but I'm really not in the mood for this sort of shit today!"   
  
By now, Toad was taking out all his deeply hidden frustrations on the woman, anger and annoyance that had accumulated over many years. "I put up with being ordered around ALL! FREAKIN'! DAY! by that PIG Magneto, so I REALLY DON'T WANT TO PUT UP WITH IT FROM YOU! And if that wasn't enough, I have an insane fifteen year old girl trying to steal my blood! If that isn't enough to warrant a really bad mood, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL DOES!" Toad stopped, suddenly aware that all the people in the room were giving him funny looks. "So...yeah." He finished lamely.  
  
While Toad had run out of frustration to vent, the woman looked like she was more than able to yell back at Toad, and with a tirade that lasted a lot longer.  
  
"Remy LeBeau." She said, shooting daggers from her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong wid you today, and I know you're not like dis normally- and dat's de only t'ing stoppen' me from given' you a good whoppen' like I used to when you was a chile. But if you EVER speak to me like dat again, I'll flog your hide, grown homme or not! Now LINE UP!"  
  
Toad deflated. "Yes sir...mamn." He corrected hastily when he noticed the look on her face, and dejectedly went and stood next to Emil, as the woman continued her inspection of everyone's appearance.   
  
He could feel Lapin staring at him. "Remy, what you t'ink you're doin', yellin' at Tante Mattie like dat? You gotta death wish?"  
  
Toad resisted the urge to tell him that his name was not Remy, it was Toad, or Mortimeer, and whispered back, "Just nerves- about the wedding."  
  
"I don't care if you're nervous or not, you don't yell at Tante!" Emil told him fiercely. "Remy, you've been acting odd since last night. What's wrong?"  
  
Toad gulped. Nowhere to run now. Unless...  
  
"Tante!" He yelled in his best frantic voice. "I don...I mean, Remy don't feel so good! The nerves are getting to me, I gotta hurl!" After what was, in his opinion, a sterling performance, Toad raced up the stairs, and into 'his' room. With a sigh of relief, he kicked off his tie and jacket, and collapsed on to the bed. "This place was ok at first," Toad mumbled, "but the brochure didn't mention crazy women in flowered scarves!"  
  
He hastily took off the fancy tux, threw it on the floor, and pulled on the black leather jacket, jeans, and grey t-shirt he had been wearing when he stepped into New Orleans. He was going back to New York.  
  
He was hunting under the bed for his boots and socks, when there was a light tap at the door. Grumbling, he crawled out from under the bed (managing to bash his head in the process) and opened the door. There was no one there.  
  
Completely forgetting about the shards of vase outside his door, a gift of Emil's clumsiness, he stepped outside to look for who had knocked, and run off.  
  
And, of course, he stepped on the vase fragments.  
  
"OWWW!" He bellowed, clutching the door frame with one hand, and his mangled foot with the other. "Damn it to hell!" He began to curse, and his balance wavered slightly. He clutched the door frame tightly, and began to swear even more.  
  
Toad heard thundering footsteps on the stairs, and Tante Mattie appeared. "I'll probably get yelled at for bleeding on the carpet." He muttered rebelliously under his breathe.  
  
Instead, the woman raced over to him, and tried to check out the cut. "Chile, let me help you too de bathroom, and we'll get dat fixed up." She said soothingly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  
  
Together, the two hobbled towards the bathroom. Toad sat on the edge of the bathtub, as Tante began rummaging through the cabinets under the vanity.   
  
While she was searching for whatever it was she was looking for, Toad let his attention wander. He was curious as to when the author would strike again- she hadn't returned since her chat to him last night, and Toad was starting to feel a little nervous.   
  
A painful scraping feeling came from his foot, which brought him back to awareness. He drew his foot towards him, out of Tante's reach.  
  
"Hey!" He yelled, about to tell her off, when he noticed what she was holding in her hand.  
  
A small test tube, containing blood.  
  
Toad stared at her, aghast, even as Matte's features melted back into the familiar olive face of the author. Long black hair shrunk into short brown hair, and the kindly smile was replaced by a smug one.  
  
"Thankyou very much, Mister Toynbee." She said in an exaggerated British accent.  
  
Before either could blink, Toad's tongue shot out. It wrapped around the vile, and headed back towards Toad.   
  
"Hey!" The author yelled in outrage, diving forward. She grabbed the tongue, and pried the test tube from it's slimy grip. She wiped her fingers on her jacket in disgust, even as she dissolved into green mist.  
  
Toad's tongue darted out in vain, meeting only mid air. As his tongue recoiled, Toad saw it being swallowed by green mist, just like the author had been. The green mist was taking all of him now, and he disappeared.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Well, there ends the 2nd chapter of the odd story! I should be able to upload the rest very soon, possibly tomorrow if I finish proofreading it before basketball trials. (wish me luck!) Hope I haven't warped your minds too much!  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: *sing song voice* Not mi-i-i-ne.  
  
AUTHORS NOTES: I have had a complaint about the ease with which the author took Wolvie's blood. I just wanted to make him the first victim, cause he's such a stubborn character- I thought it would be funny to make him the first one to suffer. Obviously, I'm the only one who thinks like that.   
  
  
  
CHAPTER THREE.  
  
  
Roaring in anger, Wolverine once again tried to slice through one of the heavy bookcases in the room. And, once again, the bookcase and it's contents miraculously repaired themselves.  
  
Wolverine paced around the office angrily. He was going out of his mind here.   
  
  
When he had reappeared from the green smoke that had swallowed him in England, he had been deposited here, in the office of the loony author again. There was a tray if sandwiches of all different types in the table, along with four large packets of chips, and bottles of softdrink. All courtesy of the author, so, naturally, Wolverine was reluctant to touch them.  
  
There was also four large TV's built into one of the walls, which hadn't been there before, and four green, extremely comfortable chairs. One of the screens was dead, but the other three showed constant images of Toad, Nightcrawler and Gambit in their various situations. Wolverine had no idea how she managed to keep a lock on all of them, wherever they moved, and frankly he didn't want to know.  
  
With a growl of frustration, he grabbed some of the food, and sat down to watch TV. Then, yelling with rage, he leaped out of his seat again. Nightcrawler was getting his ass kicked by Sabretooth. If it was the last thing he did, Wolverine was going to get out of the crazy room, and rescue his pal.   
  
He attacked one of the walls again, swiping at it with his claws. Annoyingly, though, the walls just fixed themselves up again, with not even a scratch as testimony to his efforts. Briefly, Wolverine considered attacking the thick, adamantium door, but decided not to waste his time.  
  
Wolverine glanced at Nightcrawler's screen, to see how he was doing, and blinked in amazement. The screen was now dead as well. No Nightcrawler. No Sabretooth. Not a thing.   
  
Suddenly, a cloud of green smoke collected in the center of the ceiling. It deposited a blue furball into the room, and disappeared.  
  
"Elf, that you?" Wolverine asked the fuzball.  
  
"Wolverine?" The ball asked back. Nightcrawler stood up, eyeing him warily. "Is it...oh Danke God, it's you!" He collapsed to his knees, clasped his hands together, and started thanking Jesus, over and over.  
  
Wolverine watched him uneasily for a few minutes, then dragged Nightcrawler to his feet. "Com'on elf, she provided food and TV for us."  
  
Nightcrawler's golden eyes widened. "Really? Wow, ze author sure doezn't do zings halfvay, does she?" Grinning, he grabbed some food, and together they sat down in front of the TV's.  
  
Nightcrawler winced as Gambit began yelling, while the saw cut through the box. "Ouch. I don't vemember Hilda ever being zat reckless with her saws before. How strange."  
  
Wolverine looked at him in amazement. "You know that hippo?"  
  
Nightcrawler glared at him. "You shouldn't judge ozers. And Hilda is a very nice woman. I used to vork vith her."  
  
Wolverine snorted. "Yeah, sure she's nice. That's why she's slicin' up the Cajun."  
  
They watched in interest, as Gambit began screaming, and surrendered. They ignored Toad, who's new motto was, judging by the TV screen, 'Party Hearty.'  
  
A green cloud once again gathered in the office, and it cleared to reveal a very ticked off looking Gambit, who was continuing his tirade.  
  
"...dey're a bunch of inhuman, disgust-" He stopped. "Where am I?"  
  
"Welcome back, Gumbo." Wolverine said grimly. "We're back in the office of the loopy kid."  
  
Gambit groaned. "Great, let de horror begin." He muttered. Then he noticed the new additions to the room. "Where did all dis come from? And is dat Toad on TV?"  
  
"Take vhat you vant, and come enjoy ze show." Nightcrawler explained. "Zat TV shows vhat Toad is doing at ze moment, in ze author's insane little vorld. It seems like Toad is ze only one who hasn't given up."  
  
"Toad!" Gambit yelled disbelievingly, sitting down. "Dat slimy t'ing is de last to give in? I don't believe it. Who was de first?"  
  
Wolverine glared sullenly at both. "I didn't give in." He muttered sulkily. "She tricked me."  
  
Gambit and Nightcrawler wisely decided not to push the subject any further, and decided to focus their attention on the one last functioning TV instead.  
  
"Hey, dat's my old house!" Gambit exclaimed, as they watched Toad dirty dance with a striking blonde. "And dat's my old petite ami!"   
  
Wolverine laughed nastily. "Well, it looks like someone's going to get lucky tonight!"   
  
They watched the screen, semi-interested, as Toad proceeded to make a jackass out of himself.   
  
"I didn't know zat he could dance like zat." Nightcrawler commented mildly, as a certain mutant on TV began an impromptu, and extremely pathetic Robot Dance.  
  
Gambit was practically crying from laughter. "It's times like dis dat I wish dere was a VCR." he managed to choke out.  
  
Wolverine grinned wickedly. "This is just like that Big Brother show, the one Jubilee watches." He commented, and the others agreed.  
  
Evil mutant he may have been, but Toad was more entertaining that Jerry Seinfeld crossed with Adam Hill. After a while though, the three mutants began to grow tired. Toad was rip-roaring drunk now, and looked like he was on the verge of passing out.  
  
Two strange sounds caught Wolverine's attention, and he stirred, suprised to discover that he had been close to falling asleep. Gambit and Nightcrawler were both out like a light- their snoring had been what had broken through Wolverine's semi-trance.   
  
"Lazy bums." Wolverine grumbled, reclining back into his chair again. He wished he had some cigars right about now. On the screen, Toad had finally fallen asleep in a bed that Wolverine assumed was Gambit's.  
  
"Hope the Cajun doesn't mind slime in his bed." Wolverine chuckled to himself, conveniently forgetting that Gambit didn't live there anymore.  
  
Despite his best efforts, Wolverine found himself nodding off again. Black dots danced before his eyes, and he closed them to chase them away.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he realised that there was someone staring at him.  
  
"Ahhh!" He yelled, pushing them away, and leaping to his feet.  
  
"Ouch, that hurt!" the author scolded, picking herself painfully up off the floor. "Are you always this grouchy when you wake up?"  
  
"I wasn't asleep." Wolverine said through gritted teeth, and unsheathed his claws.  
  
She smirked at him. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Logan, but you've been sleeping for the past six hours. Are you aware that you snore? Anyways, just wanted to tell you to expect a guest soon." She disappeared again.  
  
"I do not snore!" Wolverine said defensively to thin air. "And why can't you ever leave a place normally!?"   
  
He shook Gambit and Nightcrawler roughly. "Hey, Sleeping Uglys! Wake up, I think Toad'll be here soon. I can't believe you two fell asleep." Wolverine told them, as he checked out the food. The sandwiches and chips had been replaced by pancakes and bacon. Cute.  
  
"Are you telling us zat you did not fall asleep too, Wolverine?" Nightcrawler asked, yawning, as he BAMF!ed out of his chair, to beside Wolverine. "Mmm. Breakfast." He dug in.  
  
Gambit shifted slightly in his chair. "It's too early to get up, Papa." he moaned. "Lemme sleep some more."  
  
"Get up Gumbo." Wolverine ordered. "We may get to leave this hell hole soon."  
  
With another moan, Gambit stood up. "Dis sucks." He grumbled, totally ignoring the food as he crossed his arms over his chest, a grouchy look on his face.  
  
Nightcrawler grinned, as he shoveled down food like there was no tomorrow. "Not a morning person, Gambit?"  
  
Gambit just glared.  
  
Wolverine had ignore their little chat, and was instead watching Toad's screen. The green skinned mutant was opening his door. The three men in the office were fixated on the screen, as he stepped outside...  
  
...And cut his foot on a piece of pottery.  
  
Wolverine shook his head in disgust, even while he was laughing. "The guy's an idiot." He remarked. "How'd he outlast us?"  
  
Gambit and Nightcrawler shrugged. On the screen, Toad's foot was being tended to by an elderly lady. Wolverine watched the screen anxiously, while off to the side, Gambit reenacted Toad's one legged dance of pain, while Nightcrawler chuckled. Wolverine knew the author was planning something for the green mutant. He just had to watch for it-  
  
And there it was.  
  
"SHIT!" Wolverine yelled. "The author's the old lady!"  
  
The three men in the office watched the short lived battle carry out on the screen for the vial of blood. For a moment, it seemed like Toad was going to win- then, the author grabbed it, and disappeared. Toad began to disappear too, and the TV screen flickered, and died.   
  
"Merde. She won." Gambit remarked forlornly.  
  
A green cloud formed in the ceiling, and Toad dropped out, his tongue flailing madly.  
  
"Oof!" He said, hitting the ground hard. With an agonized groan, he dragged himself to his feet, and looked around. "Great. I'm back." He swore violently for a moment, while Gambit, Nightcrawler and Wolverine looked on, amused.   
  
Suddenly, Toad's yellowish-green eyes lit up. "Food!"  
  
Just as he leaped at the table heaped with breakfast though, it disappeared. Toad continued flying through the air, and smashed into a wall, as the chairs and TV screens disappeared too.   
  
One by one, every object in the room disappeared, until all that was left was the author's desk and chair. With a faint whirring sound, the top of the desk lifted up, and flipped over, sinking back into place, to reveal a shiny metal surface with a panel of buttons inset. Then, with an explosion of green light, the author appeared in her chair.  
  
Toad, Gambit, Nightcrawler and Wolverine just stared, unimpressed. The author scowled at them.  
  
"I thought that was a pretty good entrance." she said sulkily.   
  
"Let. Us. Go. Now." Wolverine ordered through gritted teeth.  
  
"All in good time." She assured them. "But first, I thought I should show you what I'm going to do with your blood, which you all so kindly donated to me."  
  
She pressed a purple button on the exposed panel, and with a hissing sound, a lid opened on the desk, and a test tube rack rose out of it.   
  
Humming to herself, the author pulled out the four vials of blood, and placed them in the test tube rack.   
  
"Hey!" Nightcrawler exclaimed, BAMF!ing onto the desk. He reached out for one of the vials, but the author pushed him off the desk before he could grab it.  
  
"Ouch." Nightcrawler grumbled, rubbing his forehead where he had hit it on the floor.  
  
The author glared at him. "It's rude to walk on tables." She said primly, and pressed the purple button again. The test tube rack sank back into the desk, and the panel closed up, as if it had never been there.  
  
"Those test tubes have been taken to their respective parts of the factory." The author explained, pride evident in her voice. "You can expect me to be very rich by the time I write another story."  
  
"I'm not putting up with this any longer!" Wolverine yelled, and began slashing at the desk. Gambit tossed a charged up card, and it exploded. The author just laughed, as the desk miraculously repaired itself. Defeated, Wolverine sheathed his claws, and Gambit put away his deck of cards.  
  
"Why?" Toad asked bluntly. "Why the games, the torment? You're the author, you could have just taken out blood right at the beginning."  
  
The author laughed insanely. "That would have been far too easy." She explained. "No one would want to read a story like that! Besides, I wanted to have a little fun with you all. But now that I've got what I needed, and I've screwed with all your lives sufficiently, you can go now. Cheers!"  
  
"What de-" Gambit managed to say, before the author triumphantly stabbed her index finger down on a green button. A trapdoor opened under their feet, and the four mutants dropped through the floor.  
  
"Ahhh!" They simultaneously screamed, as they slid down something like a tube slide through the dark.  
  
"Gambit's not liken' dis!" Gambit yelled out.  
  
"I ain't particularly thrilled 'bout it either!" Wolverine yelled back.  
  
Suddenly, a square of light appeared, and with identically pitched cries of surprise, the four mutants flew out, and crashed to the ground in a pile of arms, legs, and grumbles.  
  
"Toad, get off me"! Nightcrawler complained.  
  
They stood up, dusting themselves off, and surveyed their surroundings.  
  
They were in front of the Cloning Factory. Off on the horizon, the sky was lightening as the sun rose. It was the dawn of a new day.  
  
They turned, and looked at the factory. The big warehouse was in shadow at the moment, but the first rays of light were just hitting it. As the light got brighter, the factory began to glow a bright green. With a faint sound, like a muffled explosion, it disappeared.   
  
"Well, there's something you don't see every day." Wolverine commented, as the wind blew across the now empty lot.  
  
"Well, duh!" Toad yelled. "That's it, I'm sick of you X-Freaks!" He huffed with annoyance, and stormed off.   
  
Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Gambit just stood for a moment, and looked at each other, at a loss as to what they should be doing.  
  
"So, do we go home now?" Wolverine asked.  
  
Gambit and Nightcrawler looked at each other, and shrugged. "Sure, vhy not?" Nightcrawler agreed.  
  
  
RIGHT NOW, IN A DIMENSION NOT SO FAR AWAY...  
  
The author swore under her breath, and hit the top of her computer monitor with a fist. The screen stopped flickering, and the Ebay screen re-appeared. Outside, a car screeched up the street, and she winced, before laughing evilly. She flexed her fingers, then began to type.  
  
"Two hundred Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Toad and Gambit clones on auction at a beginning price of two thousand dollars each, minimum increasements of five hundred dollars." She murmured outloud to herself, as she typed in what she was auctioning off. She quickly typed in the URL's of the pictures of her clones, then pressed 'ENTER.'  
  
Bringing up a new screen, she typed in to the space, mumbling aloud, "One Ultimate X-Men clone, formed from a blood sample of Nightcrawler, Toad, Wolverine and Gambit, bidding begins at ten thousand, minimum increasements of two thousand." With another evil laugh, she hit the 'ENTER' key again.  
  
"Girl, turn off that computer and go to bed!" The author's father yelled from downstairs.  
  
"But da-ad." She whined. "I'm about to get rich!"   
  
"Go to bed now, young lady, or you're grounded!" He yelled back.  
  
With much grumbling, the author exited the Internet, saved the assignment for school that she was working on, and switched off the computer.  
  
END.  
  
  
MWAHAHAHA! How's THAT for a shonky ending, heeheehee. Well, you know what I want now...No, not heaps of money, a mansion, a fancy car, and Zelda Gamecube. REVIEWS! By the way, I was going to write this massive section describing what the clones were like, but I couldn't find the inspiration. Oh well. REVIEW!   
  



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